


the way you make me feel

by blazeofglory



Series: going for gold [2]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Olympics, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-24 03:15:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13802229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blazeofglory/pseuds/blazeofglory
Summary: Kent competes.Win or lose, Jack is there when it's over.





	the way you make me feel

Poised at the top of the slope, skis at the ready, heart beating fast, all Kent can think about is winning. He tries to clear his mind, tries to count to ten, but all he can think is that this run is _it_. This matters more than every other time he’s stepped into his skis in the last four years. He’s past the qualifying rounds, past the semifinals, _this is_ _fucking it._ He’s been coming in third and fourth steadily throughout the rounds, so now he needs to bring it, he needs to do _better_ , he needs to win, or this will have all been for nothing.

Kent thinks, fleetingly, about the _good luck_ text from Jack that he received only moments ago. Is Jack just another person Kent is going to disappoint today? Will Jack still want to kiss him if Kent comes in fourth? 

 _Fuck_. No. Kent shakes himself, closes his eyes, and just listens to the Britney song coming in through his headphones. He can fucking do this. He’s done it before, he can do it again. He’s going to win.

“It’s almost time,” his coach says, and Kent doesn’t even have to force himself to smile.

“Let’s do this.”

 

 

 

 

Kent doesn’t get back to his room until late, so he’s surprised that the lights are still on. 

“You’re still up?” he asks, chuckling as he steps inside, but he stops short in surprise. Swoops isn’t in the room.

“Hey,” Jack says, smiling a little sheepishly from his perch on Kent’s bed. “Your roommate let me in. I—well, I wanted to say congrats.”

Kent gets over his surprise quickly; he drops his bags, closes the door behind him, and makes his way to Jack with a smile on his face. When he reaches his bed, he stands there and strikes a pose, hands on his hips and chest puffed out dramatically.

“How do I look?” Kent grins so big, his frequently-bleached teeth must be blinding Jack—but Jack is just smiling back, looking something akin to smitten.

“Gold suits you, Kenny,” Jack replies, and there’s something _proud_ in his voice, but Kent doesn’t let himself dwell on that, because Jack is standing now, reaching out for Kent. His fingers trail down Kent’s chest, so lightly that Kent can’t feel it through the sweater he’s still wearing, and Jack lingers on the gold medal for just a second. Everyone and their mother has been clambering to touch it for the last few hours, yet Kent doesn’t mind this at all. 

Jack looks up, his eyes meeting Kent’s, and then his hands are abandoning the medal in favor of cupping Kent’s cheeks gently and pulling him into a kiss. Kent deepens it quickly, full of all the pent-up energy of the whirlwind day, and it’s not long before they’re both breathing heavily and Kent is hungry for _more_. He pulls back from the kiss and gives Jack a little push, so he falls back onto the bed—Jack gives a startled laugh and his legs spread in an easy sprawl. It’s been over a week, and yet, Kent is still speechless every time he sees Jack like this, in his bed and beautiful and looking up at Kent like he can’t wait to get him naked.

“Remember what I said?” Kent asks as he kicks off his shoes. Jack, propped up on his elbows now, just shakes his head. “I said you could fuck me when I win gold.”

Jack blushes immediately. “ _Oh._ ”

Kent gets his jeans off quickly, and then he joins Jack on the bed, sitting astride his hips. “You still wanna?”

“Yes,” Jack answers immediately, gratifyingly eager, and Kent grins at him. _God_ , this man.

“Good.” _Slowly_ , Kent removes the medal from around his neck, then takes Jack’s hand and places the medal in it. “Hold this for a sec.” 

“Anything for you,” Jack replies, and he’s laughing, but Kent sort of thinks he’s serious anyway. It’s hard not to believe it when Jack’s eyes are so trusting and deep—Kent didn’t even know eyes could look like that until Jack. Kent leans down for another quick, hard kiss before sitting back up. He quickly divests himself of his sweater and shirt, and then Jack is offering him the gold medal back.

Kent puts the medal back on, and him and Jack both stare at it for a second. Kent has no idea what Jack is feeling—jealousy, anticipation, excitement? Jack hasn’t competed in his medal round yet, but he will soon, and Kent’s completely confident that he’ll win it. He feels vaguely traitorous for not rooting for Team USA, but—well, Jack Zimmermann is the only Canadian that can turn Kent.

“I’m really proud of you,” Jack says softly.

Kent’s heart stutters in his chest. _Oh_ , not jealous or excited thoughts; _proud_ thoughts. Jack is proud of him.

Abruptly, Kent shifts off of Jack and lays down on his back, pulling Jack on top of him. He wraps his arms around Jack, holding him close, the medal sandwiched between him, and kisses Jack again. He wants to say _thank you_ , but it might come out as _I love you_ , and this is definitely not the time.

Jack kisses his way down Kent’s neck, while Kent clings to Jack’s shoulders, and they grind together. Kent’s so hard, it almost _hurts_. Jack keeps shifting down, pressing hot kisses to Kent’s skin all around where the medal lays, and Kent can’t help but spread his legs. He’s high off of victory and Jack’s touch, and _desperate_ for more. Mercifully, Jack obliges, reaching under Kent’s briefs to wrap a hand around his hard cock, and Kent _moans_.

Jack gets Kent’s briefs off quickly, then those _strong_ hands are caressing Kent’s thighs, and it just feels right to spread his legs. Jack shifts even further down the bed, kissing Kent’s inner thighs. The kisses are soft until they’re _not_ , and Kent is gasping for breath, fingers pulling at Jack’s hair, and just short of fucking _begging_. He’s always been sensitive, but Jack just— _fuck_ , Jack somehow knows how to touch Kent in every single way he likes to be touched.

It doesn’t take long until Kent is squirming and whining, “Come on, Jack, _fuck_ me.”

Jack looks up from Kent’s legs, his eyes _slowly_ traveling down Kent’s body, lingering on the gold medal for a second, before meeting his eyes. The smile that spreads across Jack’s face is as beautiful as ever as he says, “Yeah, I think you’ve earned it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Janelle Monáe's newest bop!
> 
>  
> 
> kent: i've got a fucking GOLD MEDAL and i'm gonna celebrate by riding jack like a fucking stallion
> 
> jack "heart eyes" zimmermann: i'm so proud of you :) 
> 
> kent: pls make gentle sweet love to me


End file.
